''Nelly, I Am Heathcliff!": the Problem of 'Identification'' in Wuthering Heights

''Nelly, I am Heathcliff!": The Problem of 'Identification'' in Wuthering Heights

GRAEME TYTLER

N A BBC television series broadcast during November I and December 2003 under the title "The Big Read," Wuthering Heights was voted twenty-first of the hundred best-loved works of fiction in Britain. This relatively high po- sition may have been determined in part by the fact that Al- istair McGowan, the apologist for the novel, based his defense of it almost entirely on the love relationship between Cath- erine and Heathcliff, some of the renowmed moments of which were made palpably dramatic for the televiewer by the aid of actors. Since McCowan, like the twenty other celeb- rities also chosen to lecture on their favorite books, was speaking as an amateur, it was perhaps not surprising that he should have said what seems to have been said countless times before, namely, that Catherine and Heathcliff are the greatest lovers in the history of the novel, and their speeches among the finest in all literature. And while McCowan was, to be sure, nothing loath to acknowledge the grim and tragic as- pects of their relationship, there can be little doubt that his attitude toward Catherine and Heathcliff as lovers was fundamentally affirmative, refiecting as it probably did the sen- timents of most readers who voted for the book, as well as representing views held down the years by many a literary scholar, most notably when, for example, he referred to Cath- erine's well-known exclamation, "Nelly, I am, Heathcliff!" as a manifestation of perfect love. But although some Bronte scholars have interpreted that somewhat cryptic utterance in much the same fashion, others have used it as a basis for re-assessing, not to say impugning.

(167) 168 THE MIDWEST QUARTERLY a relationship that has all too often been considered almost sacrosanct. Thus Elizabeth Napier has interpreted Cathe- rine's words as part of a specific psychological pattern in that they bespeak a certain reluctance on the heroine's part to accept the 'otherness' of HeathclifPs identity. Bernard Paris has gone further by describing Catherine and HeathclifPs relationship as "a mutual dependency," wherehy hoth characters lack "a sense of themselves as autonomous heings with separate identities" (108). Such an opinion is difficult to gain- say on purely psychological grounds, and deserves to be kept in mind wdth respect to Emily Bronte's treatment of love. Yet a much more important reason for taking that opinion seriously is that it happens to have a certain bearing on a central theme in Wuthering Heights, that is, the way in which 'identification,' as seen in the tendency not only to identify with someone, but to read their mind, predict their behavior or situation, ascribe motives to their actions, judge their character, and so on, plays its part for good or ill in almost all personal relationships delineated in the novel. In view of the favor that Catherine and Heathcliff continue to enjoy as romantic figures among all kinds of readership, it might, then, be deemed almost heretical to suggest that Cath- erine's ways of identifying with Heathcliff—"I am Heathcliff (82), "he's more myself than I am" (80), "his [soul] and mine are the same" (80), etc.—ought to be regarded with some wariness. Yet such a suggestion is by no means out of place once we have reminded ourselves first of all that those poetic phrases are voiced in the very context in which Catherine has been consulting Nelly Dean about whether or not to marry Edgar Linton. Moreover, by that time we have also become aware that, since her return from her five-week stay at Thrushcross Crange, Catherine has been quite inconsiderate, even callous, in her behavior toward Heathcliff and generally unresponsive to his evident affection for her. In any case, it is not at all certain that Catherine's statements ahout him are necessarily expressions of erotic love; on the contrary, the fact that she supposes that Heathcliff "does not know what being IDENTIFICATION 169 in love is" (81) would suggest that she was simply anxious to prolong their childhood relationship. Such claims as Cathe- rine makes about her love for Heathcliff seem to be rather evasive, mainly because they are couched not in plain language but in extravagant metaphors. It is also odd to be told that, in her fear that Heathcliff may have overheard her dialogue with Nelly Dean, Catherine discovers that she has "forgotten" (83) what she has just been saying about him, thereby making us wonder whether any of" her utterances about him should be taken seriously. That such forgetfulness seems to be characteristic of Catherine is later confirmed when, in an attempt to discourage Isabella's amorous interest in Heathcliff, she describes him to her as "an unreclaimed creature, without refinement—^without cultivation" and as "a fierce, pitiless, wolfish man" (102), having apparently over- looked that only a short time ago she had told Edgar that the newly-returned Heathcliff was now "worthy of any one's regard" and that it would "honour the first gentleman in the country to be his friend" (98). Just as Catherine's 'identification' with Heathcliff may, then, be already turned on its head for reasons given above, so too may Heathcliff s 'identification' with Catherine, albeit for partly different reasons. Although Heathcliff makes specific identificatory references to Catherine as "my life" (158) and "my soul" (167) during their final meeting and immedi- ately after her death, the essence of his 'identification' with her is perhaps best seen in his long dialogue with Nelly T)ean in Chapter 14. The fact that during the dialogue Heathcliff defiantly asserts his love for Catherine while intermittently vilifying and humiliating his bride Isabella in the presence of a servant is surely enough for us already to cast doubt on the value of that love. This doubt is compounded by Heathcliff s threatening behavior toward Nelly Dean and, more particu- larly, by his refusal to heed her reiterated warning to him about the dangers to Catherine's health of his proposed visit—a warning that will appear to have been later vindicated by the latter's untimely death. Heathchffs determination to 170 THE MIDWEST QUARTERLY see Catherine at all costs seems to he principally due to Nelly's assertion that her mistress has "nearly forgotten" (149) him; indeed, it is those very words that evidently set him on his quest to prove not only that Catherine has not forgotten him, but that she loves him far better than she has ever loved Edgar. In this connection, it is noteworthy that when, amid his (unfounded) claim of being superior to Edgar in the capacity to love Catherine, Heathcliff sarcastically dis- misses Edgar's love for her as a mere expression of "duty" and "humanity," he seems unaware that those two words have only moments earlier constituted part of Nelly's presumptuous prediction that Edgar will "only sustain his affection here- after [for Catherine] by the remembrance of what she once was, by common humanity, and a sense of duty!" (148). More important for our purposes, however, is HeathclifPs contention that Catherine's love for him is far greater than her love for Edgar, that Edgar is, as he says, "scarcely a degree dearer to her than her dog, or her horse" (149). Such arguments have been takeri on trust by many readers of Wuthering Heights and commonly found acceptable. But how valid are they? It is true that Catherine has welcomed Heathcliff on his return from abroad as though he were some long-lost lover, that his three-year absence has caused her great suffering, and that she admires in him the manliness she (mistakenly) supposes to be lacking in Edgar. Yet, as has already been suggested above, we cannot be quite sure about the nature of Catherine's love for Heathcliff, nor for that matter can we tell whether Catherine loves him in the way he thinks she does. In any case, HeathclifPs debunking of Cath- erine's love for Edgar seems to be somewhat vitiated by Is- abella's allegation that her brother and sister-in-law are "as fond of each other as any two people can be" (149), as it is also by Nelly Dean's following statement as based on her own assessment of the same relationship while Heathcliff was still absent: "I believe I may assert that [Catherine and Edgar] were really in possession of deep and growing happiness" (92). Again, we may well wonder why, despite HeathclifPs IDENTIFICATION 171 belittling of the quality of her love for Edgar, Catherine should have been heard childishly fretting (presumably) over Edgar's apparent indifference to her during her seclusion in her bedroom, and even gone so far as to imagine his relief at her death, adding: "he'd be glad—he does not love me at all—he would never miss me" (120). These are hardly the words of someone fundamentally indifferent to her husband, let alone constantly preoccupied with Heathcliff. Eurther- more, as we gather from Nelly's accounts, Catherine neither asks for Heathcliff nor mentions his name during her final illness or just before her death. No doubt, the reason Heath- cliff gives Nelly for Catherine's silences, namely, that "she thinks you are all spies for her husband" (153) sounds plausible enough to the reader—as plausible, indeed, as when, for example, he says: "I guess, by' her silence, as much as anything, what she feels—" (153) or "It is a foolish story to assert that Catherine could not bear to see me. . ." (153). But when examined from a detached viewpoint, such statements seem essentially presumptuous, and hardly less so than that with which Heathcliff will later taunt Nelly for weeping over the dead Catherine thus: "Damn you all! she wants none of your tears" (166). HeathclifPs readings of Catherine's mind may be under- stood as expressions of a tendency in each of these two characters to regard the other as a kind of alter ego, the extreme example of this being undoubtedly Catherine's claim to be Heathcliff. This tendency is already evident in their childhood, especially from Heathcliff s account in Chapter 6 of their illicit Sunday evening visit to Thrushcross Crange, whereby his idolatrous attitude to Catherine is matched by the confidence with which he reads her psychology, as, for example, when he describes her reaction to having her ankle held between the jaws of the bulldog: "She was sick; not from fear, I'm certain, but from pain" (47). It is in the same account tliat we also sense the defiance with which Heathcliff and Catherine as youngsters so often behave toward others, whether jointly or separately. Something of this defiance is 172 THE MIDWEST QUARTERLY suggested when Nelly recalls Catherine as a child "singing, laughing, and plaguing everybody who would not do the same" as well as "using her hands freely, and commanding her companions. . ." (40). Such references are probably enough to explain why in her later years Catherine is inclined to presume how other people should think about a particular matter, as, for example, when she says this to Nelly: "surely you and every body have a notion that there is, or should be, an existence of yours beyond you" (81f); or, when, assuming during her brain fever that Nelly does not like her, she fa- cetiously remarks: "How strange! I thought, though everybody hated and despised each other, they could not avoid loving me—" (122). These and similar infantile comments about other mentalities help us to understand why Catherine will scarcely hesitate to interpret the minds of those with whom she is in close relationship. Thus as well as taking it for granted that her future husband will help Heathcliff to ascend the social scale, Catherine is prone to making presumptuous statements about Edgar's attitude toward herself, one of the most memorable being the following: "I tell you, I have such faith in Linton's love that I believe I might kill him, and he wouldn't wish to retaliate" (98). Such words will, of course, soon after be contradicted by her complaint during her illness referred to above, to wit, that he does not love her anymore. A like presumptuousness informs Catherine's readings of Isabella's mind. For instance, we note that Catherine tries to justify her having told the latter, while they were out on a walk with Heathcliff, to "ramble wher6 [she] pleased" by saying, "I merely thought Heathcliff s talk would have nothing entertaining for your ears" (101). Catherine is, of course, as mistaken in that assumption as she is when she presently goes on to say this to Isabella: "It is impossible that you can covet the admiration of Heathcliff—that you can consider him an agreeable person!" (102). No doubt, those words are an expression of her jealousy of Isabella for cherishing an erotic love for Heatlicliff such as she herself seems to have hardly IDENTIFICATION 173 shown toward him—a jealousy that might even be said to underlie the forbidding portrait of Heathcliff with which she tries to distract Isabella from her love for him. Yet Catherine's negative assessment of HeathclifPs character and mentality and her predictions about his behavior toward Isabella seem to be more in the nature of self-centered fantasy than of well- grounded argumentation. That Catherine's readings of Heathcliff s character are by no means to be trusted is plain to see when, by way of reproving the latter for making amorous advances to Isabella, she says this to him: "Your bliss lies, like [Satan's], in inflicting misery—" (112), as though she were utterly unaware that she it was who, through her care- less talk, not only was the first to inform him of Isabella's infatuation, but encouraged him to take advantage of it. As we have already seen, Catherine and Heathcliff s interpretations of each other's minds are scarcely different in kind from their interpretations of the minds of some of the other characters. Certainly, the excessive confidence with which Heathcliff construes Catherine's attitude to himself is just as manifest, for example, in his comments to Nelly Dean about Hareton Eamshaw in Chapter 21, inasmuch as he maintains not only that the latter "takes a pride in his brutishness" (219), but that he will never be able to emerge from it. That prediction will be shown in the end to have been as baseless as Catherine's prediction that when she dies Edgar will offer "prayers of thanks to Cod for restoring peace to his house. . ." (122). The habit of making predictions about other people's situations takes several forms in the novel, and is almost always found to have been wrong-headed. Consider, for example, the fact that, in the second half of the novel, Nelly Dean, Edgar Linton, and Zillah, independently of one another, envisage Cathy's fate as that of someone doomed to end her life in loneliness or poverty. [I have used "Cathy" throughout for the second Catherine to appear in the novel] Erroneous predictions are doubtless determined by the same mental processes that prompt one to draw hasty conclusions, examples of which latter are to be seen at their most comical 174 THE MIDWEST QUARTERLY level in the persistently wrong guesses that Lockwood makes in Chapter 2 about the ways in which the members of Heath- cliffs household are interrelated. Such false conclusions seem to share the same psychological roots as Lockwood's earUer quest, in Chapter 1, to discover an alter ego in Heathcliff— a quest that may be regarded as a grotesque foreshadowing of Catherine's claim to be Heathcliff. That 'identification' with others is usually a form of domination is suggested when the characters advise one another how they should act, or how they themselves might have acted in particular circumstances, with phrases such as "If I were you," or "Had he been in my place and I in his," or, as Catherine says to a lovesick Isabella, "I wouldn't be you for a kingdom. . ." (102). Most statements of that kind are fal- lacious inasmuch as those uttering them seem to overlook that, were they to assume the other's identity, they could not but act according to that identity. A similar fallaciousness can be perceived in certain expressions entailing the use of the personal pronoun 'we.' Thus when in Chapter 14 Heathcliff presumes, albeit mistakenly, that Nelly Dean has brought something (perhaps a note) for Isabella, saying, "You needn't make a secret of it; we have no secrets between us" (147), he is evidently unaware that Nelly's arrival at the Heights is the consequence of a letter secretly written and sent to her by Isabella. There are also ironic, even meaningless, uses of'we' to be discerned here and there in the narrative, as, for example, when, in response to Edgar's distraught reaction to her having flung the kitchen-door key into the fire, Catherine sarcastically mocks him as follows: "We are vanquished! We are vanquished!" (115). Again, when Catherine answers Ed- gar's request to her to choose between himself and Heathcliff by saying, "for mercy's sake, let us hear no more of it now!" (117), one is forcibly reminded of the imperious manner in which Nelly Dean tends to use the first-person plural pronoun, and never more viciously so than when she confirms her refusal to allow Cathy to send a note to Linton Heathcliff telling him of her inability to meet him on the next day as IDENTIFICATION 175 arranged: "We will not begin with your Uttle notes" (224). In all such uses of 'we' or 'us' the reader senses a more or less unconscious desire to exert wilful domination over the person addressed. Sometimes, too, 'we' is used glibly as if one were speaking as authoritatively for the person or persons included in that pronoun as one speaks for oneself Such uses are common when the pronoun represents only two people, one of which is an alter ego. Several examples of this may be noted in HeathclifPs and Catherine's comments about one another's feelings or attitudes. Yet 'we' and 'us' are just as readily ap- plied by those content to speak for other people in general, not to say humanity as a whole. For example, when, in his insistence on Hareton's hair being cut short, a somewhat drunken Hindley asserts that it is "devilish conceit . . .—to cherish our ears—" and adds, "we're asses enough without them" (74), the latter phrase seems scarcely different from the glib generalizations that Nelly Dean is given to making with the Pirst-person plural pronoun. Indeed, when just before relating how Edgar and Catherine's growing marital happiness suddenly ended with the unexpected return of Heath- cliff, Nelly Dean remarks, "Well, we must be for ourselves in the long run" (92), one cannot help sensing in her use of'we' here much the same presumptuousness with which moralists have from time immemorial laid down laws or precepts about human conduct, often in the form of aphorisms, to the apparent disregard of individual differences or preferences. Although making generalizations or aphoristic utterances about mankind has been considered as much an acceptable part of the fictional narrator's function as, say, judging character, one may well wonder whether the latter form of'identification' is for the most part any the less questionable. That Wuthering Heights is in some sense a novel about the dangers of making character judgments is already amply suggested when Lockwood, having noted certain likenesses between himself and Heathcliff and, perhaps for that reason, styled him "a capital fellow" (1) in Chapter 1, finds himself already 176 THE MIDWEST QUARTERLY in Chapter 2 compelled to revise that judgment after he has heard him ordering Cathy to prepare the tea: "The tone in which the words were said, revealed a genuine bad nature. I no longer felt inclined to call Heathcliff a capital fellow" (10). Lockwood's words might be deemed, if only in retrospect, a useful means of putting us on our guard not only against similar judgments made by his fellow-narrator Nelly Dean but, more especially, against her seemingly omniscient interpretations of the minds of some of the characters. Thus it might be asked, for example, whether her detailed and essentially sympathetic readings of Edgar Linton's various psychological states, plausible as they seem to be, are not after all mainly expressions of that sense of power which she has perforce acquired over him through his heavy dependence on her during the last years of his life. It is, moreover, probably through the considerable authority she is vested with as Cathy's nanny that Nelly is quick to jump to conclusions about her charge's inner life, especially in the wake of the latter's first reunion with Linton Heathcliff. A striking example of this is furnished when, having pooh-poohed Cathy for weeping because her father wishes her to "avoid [Heathcliff s] house and family," Nelly goes on to exclaim: "If you had any real griefs, you'd be ashamed to waste a tear on this little contrariety. You never had one shadow of substantial sorrow. Miss Catherine" (223). Aside from suggesting that she has completely forgotten about the very real grief that Cathy suffered at Linton's unexpected departure from the Crange on the day after his arrival there, Nelly's explanation turns out to have nothing whatsoever to do with the actual reason for Cathy's tears, namely, her concern that Linton will be disappointed at her not coming to the Heights the following day. A similar presumptuousness is shortly afterwards exposed when, in answer to the latter's assumption that she is still fretting about being separated from Linton, Cathy retorts, "I fret about nothing on earth except papa's illness. . ." (231). In both contexts, then, we see how wide of the mark Nelly is in the constructions she puts upon Cathy's thoughts and IDENTIFICATION 177

attitudes—as wide of tlie mark, indeed, as Heathcliff will be when, having locked both women inside the Heights, he answers Cathy's anxiety about her father by saying, among other things, that "it is quite natural that you should desire amuse- ment at your age; and that you should weary of nursing a sick man, and that man only your father" (275). And perhaps it is on account of her apparent inability thus to allow for Cathy's filial selflessness tliat we should be just as cautious in our responses to Nelly Dean's character judgments in general. Consider, for example, the way in which she seems to lose sight of Linton Heathcliffs particular individuality when she describes him as "the worst-tempered bit of a sickly slip that ever struggled into its teens" (242). Such words have doubtless helped to determine and sustain a generally unfavorable image of HeathcHfPs son among Bronte scholars. Yet how acceptable is Nelly's definition? We note, first of all, that apart from constituting a fallacy as an unverifiable superlative phrase, it is shot through with the very subjectivity that will presently make her "glad to think," albeit erroneously, that Cathy has "no chance of having him for a husband. . ." (243). Secondly, as the answer to Cathy's question, "Don't you like him, Ellen?" (242), they bespeak a point of view which, because diametrically opposite to the one implicit in that question, is thereby shown up for its patent subjectivity. To be sure, Cathy's optimism about Linton betrays much the same presumptuousness we have seen in various guises above, as, for example, when she maintains that "he'll soon do as [she] direct[s] him" (242), that they would "never quarrel" (242), that, because he is younger than herself, he "ought to live the longest" (243), and so on—assumptions that will every one of them have been later invalidated. A similar presumptuousness is even more ironically evident when, despite having been puzzled by Linton's "strange talk" on the heath, and only minutes before he will have effectively played his part in getting her trapped in the Heights, Cathy reasserts her confidence in his essential goodness as follows. "You wouldn't hurt me, Linton, would you? You wouldn't let any enemy hurt 178 THE MIDWEST QUARTERLY me, if you could prevent it? I'll believe you are a coward, for yourself, but not a cowardly betrayer of your best friend" (267). The fact that the foregoing estimations of Linton Heath- cliffs mentality and conduct turn out, then, to be as presumptuous in their way as Nelly Dean's outright condemna- tion of the boy may be seen as yet another argument against a prominent aspect of 'identification' we have already noted above, that is, the tendency to make summary or hasty character judgments. But although Cathy's readings of other minds, however pardonable they may be as signs of her im- maturity and inexperience, are as dubious as any discussed hitherto, especially when the readings have to do with Har- eton, it is nevertheless through her tireless devotion to Linton that we are given an important glimpse of some of the con- structive uses of 'identification.' So far we have noted the extent to which 'identification' is a kind of domination, the consequence of a certain unwillingness to accept the otherness of one's fellow human beings. Yet how well can we ever know one another? How correctly can we read one another's minds? What right do we have to judge one another's characters? These are some of the questions that Emily Bronte indirectly raises throughout her novel, and yet in some sense already answers in Chapter 1 through Lockwood's first detailed description of Heathcliff. Thus, having supposed that "some people might suspect him of a degree of underbred pride—," Lockwood continues, "I have a sympathetic chord within me that tells me it is nothing of the sort; I know, by instinct, his reserve springs from an aversion to showy displays of feeling—to manifestations of mutual kindliness. He'll love and hate, equally under cover, and esteem it a species of impertinence to be loved and hated again—No, I'm running on too fast—I bestow my own attitudes over-liberally on him" (4). Serving at once as an ironic foreshadowing of much that I have drawn attention to above and as a kind of warning against the pitfalls of 'identification,' Lockwood's words re- IDENTIFICATION 179

mind us all the same, especially through the phrase "a sympathetic chord within me," that 'identification' qua sympathy plays an important, indeed, an indispensable, part in the realm of love. That Lockwood's sympathy is, however, little more than sympathy for an alter ego is suggested not only by the passage just quoted, but by his observations on Heath- cliffs unexpectedly irrational behavior in the oak-panelled room in Chapter 3. Moreover, since Lockwood invariably fails to act on his sympathy, it remains a fundamentally sterile feeling, a form of inverted self-pity, not unlike that with which Heathcliff, just before stating that Hareton will "never be able to emerge from his bathos of coarseness, and ignorance," says this to Nelly Dean about the latter, "I can sympathise with all his feelings, having felt them myself—I know what he suffers now, for instance, exactly—it is merely a beginning of what he shall suffer, though" (219). Permeated as they are by an unmistakable Schadenfreude, Heathcliffs words here are a very travesty of the notion of sympathy as a concern to identify with others in their weal or woe, and enable us to understand why he is not only generally impatient with the sufferings of others but sometimes even enjoys them. Nor is it surprising in this connection that Catherine, too, with her propensity for domineering over others and her apparent fas- cination with machismo, should show little capacity to feel for others in their physical or mental distress, as may be seen more especially in her relations with Edgar and Isabella. Sym- pathy in the true sense of the word is, in fact, a rare thing in Emily Bronte's novel, being observable for tlie most part in Cathy and Hareton, and that notwithstanding such shortcom- ings as either of them, Cadiy in particular, may be said to exliibit during their green years. Indeed, it is in some measure through Hareton and Cathy's presentation as secondary hero and heroine that we come to realize why Catherine and Heathcliffs 'identification' with one another needs to be reappraised rather than reaffirmed, and the more so as it has been shown here to be a signal example of a common human failing that is time and again laid bare in Wuthering Heights. 180 THE MIDWEST QUARTERLY

I have tried, then, in the foregoing, to show that, notwithstanding the critical attention it will always rightly elicit for its delineation of an extraordinary love relationship, Emily Bronte's masterpiece is significant above all for what it tells us about human relationships in general; and that, hidden though she is, so to speak, behind her text, the author in some sense invites us to view all her figures without exception as dispassionately and objectively as we can on the basis of what they say or what is said about them, and sometimes even in defiance of the judgments passed on them by the two prin- cipal narrators. Indeed, it is largely through Emily's skilful use of dialogue, with its incontestable scope for ironic reso- nances and moral implications, that we come to realize that Wuthering Heights is not just a world-famous love story but, as I have noted partly through my topic of discussion, a book made up from beginning to end of ingeniously assorted tlie- matic patterns, recognition and awareness of which, it would be hoped, cannot but enhance our interest both in the events it recounts and in the characters it portrays.

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